At last, after a long rumbling journey in a stuffy windowless van, she reached Canongate Prison—for Holloway had its quota already. With a moment of inward shame he remembered his deportment towards Anna. Money was not necessary; indeed, it would have embarrassed all concerned. And because he knew it was a burden, there was no gaiety upon the doctor's face; neither was there speech on his tongue. “Why do you hate me again, my love?” He seemed to brighten, feeding upon the intensity of her emotion. She addressed her letters, meditated on them for a time, and then took them out and posted them. He had seldom been more perturbed. That ring manifestly occupied her thoughts a great deal. She was a large, resilient girl, with a foolish smile, a still more foolish expression of earnestness, and a throaty contralto voice. When she awoke she felt as if she were adrift on a soft cloud through a golden sky.
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